


Not Enough Heroes

by Redfire_Dragon



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Beautiful, Grief/Mourning, Other, Poignant, Sad, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 15:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15933344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redfire_Dragon/pseuds/Redfire_Dragon
Summary: Sometimes there are justnot enough heroes, and the fall of even one is a terrible tragedy.Sometimes I have to write something sad, but beautiful.https://prowlxjazz.dreamwidth.org/1731772.htmlProwlxJazz 11th anniversary challenge week 1The world needs more heroes





	Not Enough Heroes

The rain came down, pattering on the road and sidewalks and the plating of those outside. Rain was a handy thing, it could wash away much muck and dust, even slipping through the gaps and transformation seams to rinse a mech's internal workings. They said that with rising pollution levels eventually the rain would become acidic, perhaps even enough to harm a mech's internals. Jazz felt that even acidic rain wouldn't be able to wash away this moment. Even if the acid was so bad it managed to melt away his whole frame (which was a ludicrous idea anyway), it wouldn't be able to wash this away.

The rain fell down, when had it started? Just a few moments before this had all begun? As if the sky had known what would happen, as if the sky was weeping with him, just as overwhelmed by grief as he was. He heard and saw the rain, in the peripheries of his vision, rata-tat-tating on the frame half cradled in his arms, and felt as it beat on the back of his bowed helm. It seemed like all he could focus on was the sound and feel and even _smell_ of the rain. It filled him, and allowed him to avoid the full realization of the horror before him for just a bit longer.

The rain poured down, endless, steady, and somber, not a light hearted sprinkling of tiny drops dancing in the sunshine, or an oppressive torrential downpour that felt as if the sky was full of rage and determined to wash away the world. Just a quiet persistent thing, as regular as a sparkbeat. As regular as the sparkbeat that he could not hear anymore. The water beneath him glowed softly, mixing with the freshly spilled energon, diluting and spreading it, but there was still too much for it to wash away quite yet. Far too much. He shuddered, trying again not to have to face the truth before him, clutching the frame he held closer.

But proof and realization can only be denied for so long, especially for such a down to earth mech as Jazz. He could only distract himself for so long, the knowledge he denied seeping in as the glowing blue energon began to dissipate at the far edges of the puddle, some of it making it's way toward the storm drain in the road nearby. He could deny it no longer, he had to face the truth.

Prowl was dead. It had happened so fast, and now he was dead. His lovely, kind, steady, _perfect_ Prowl was dead. "How could you let this happen?" He sobbed softly into the grey chestplates of his love, unsure if he was talking to Primus or the enforcers that had failed to keep the streets safe enough that an off-duty enforcer could walk the streets without being shanked.

It had happened in just a moment, four or five figures darting out of an alleyway, they had seemed to just brush by Prowl as they headed to the street to transform and drive off. Prowl had stiffened, servo gripping Jazz's so tight. Then it had relaxed and Prowl toppled over, crumpling to the ground, all before Jazz had realized something was wrong. Then he'd seen the energon, seeming to be pouring out of Prowl's back and abdomen, half a dozen or so stab wounds perfectly aimed to cause maximum damage, or so Jazz had guessed with how much energon he was bleeding out.

He'd called emergency services, twisting, falling to his knees next to his dying love, scooping up Prowl's upper body, cradling him close. "The medics are on their way." He assured, optics wide, spark thudding so hard, logic and evaluation parts of his processor trying to tell him Prowl was bleeding out too fast even as he staunchly denied it, pushing the evaluations away. "They will be here in just a couple clicks. So soon, just hold on." Prowl's optics were flickering, pain and acceptance and sorrow in his dimming field, reaching up one of those pure white hands up to touch Jazz's face, cupping the side, caressing him for one last time. There was such a gentle smile on his face, all love, even in his suffering field, that deep endless love that all but drowned Jazz, growing every orn, a love he'd always wished he could return so deeply. A complete devotion to Jazz, that had begun the moment when (and they had only just begun dating at the time) Prowl had decided that Jazz was the one whom he wanted to spend his time, and perhaps even his whole life, with.

And then it ended. Prowl's optics had flickered out for the last time, hand going limp, dropping away from Jazz's face, falling back down onto his graying out chestplates with a soft clang.

"You can't die on me." Jazz whispered over his dead love, even though he knew the mech couldn't hear him, would never speak again, never hold him again. If the enforcers had been doing a better job this might not have happened. Had it been the remaining members of that gang Prowl had been taking down all on his lonesome? The other enforcers just didn't bother working so hard, Prowl carrying almost all the weight of the work, the best whom everyone resented because his skill and dedication revealed their incompetence. More than just Jazz personally, the whole _city_ would suffer without him. "Prowl you _can't_ die. There are not enough heroes in this world without you."


End file.
